Welcome to Attraction
by Elephantastiic
Summary: When it comes to her, he just can't help himself.
1. Control

Because Laura told me to. :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, I just love them to death!

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Control<strong>

The night is young and the hospital lobby is busy with the new shift of doctors coming in. The two stand at the door while the one with the lighter brown hair and goatee collect his bags.

"What time does your plane get in?" Derek asks as he watches Mark grab his bags.

"You asked that already," Mark responds in a huff as he lifts his third bag.

"Just making sure. There's no other way to make sure you get safely unless I check the time."

"I have a feeling that you're implying to go with me."

"If you insist…"

He laughs, "My plane arrives around two. Remember that so you don't ask me again."

"Mark, your cab is here," comes a voice from the doorway. He's unable to turn around to see who it is without crashing some of his luggage into something.

"Thanks, Callie," he says with a half smile.

They walk down to the cab. A warm summer breeze brushes across the group. They say their goodbyes while the driver loads the trunk. When the meter begins to run, Mark prepares to slide in the back. Derek stops him before he's able to close the door.

"Control yourself," Derek says.

Mark knows what Derek means. He's spending the summer in his hometown. He's supposed to have fun so why can't he have a summer fling if he finds one? Mark isn't really good with commitment. He never really has been. Derek knows that. Except with Lexie, his longest commitment.

But that's another story.

He smirks and slides in the rest of the way. The door closes and cab drives off.

"My plane had to take an emergency landing in Seattle," Olivia says into the phone, "No, no, don't wait for me. I probably won't be in until two. I'll take a cab home," she rushes over to the baggage claim to beat the crowd of irritated travelers that were also on her plane, "Elliot. Seriously, go home. I won't be another couple of hours. You even sound tired."

Her eyes quickly study each luggage tag that passes her on the rotating table. She grabs the first one that has her name.

One down two to go.

"Okay, well, I have to go. I don't want to see you until tomorrow, Elliot. I mean it. Tell Kathy I said hi."

She stuffs her phone into her coat pocket and reaches for her second tote, then the third. She flips her hair out of her face and walks hastily to her terminal. She's almost there until she hears, "Excuse me! Miss! Miss!"

Olivia doesn't think much of it until she hears it getting closer. She turns around when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Did you drop this?"

She looks into a pair of bright blue eyes then down into his hand at her phone. Her free hand slips into her open, empty, coat pocket. She exhales tiredly and then smiles.

"I guess I did. Thank you."

"No problem. Seattle airports can be extremely busy in the summer."

He studies her a little bit. Midnight eyes, silky hair, and an impressive smile. Before he's able to say something charming and flirty, the girl with the midnight eyes thanks him once more and is out of his sight.

Who was that?

He can't explain it but he feels a little defeated that he didn't get more than a thank you.

Not even her name.

Not even a quickie in a restaurant bathroom.

Thank you sex for returning a dropped phone? Wishful thinking.

It could happen. It hashappened a couple of times but under completely different circumstances.

Shrugging it off helps a little but that small feeling still lingers. He spots a bookstore ahead. Maybe something to read will help him take his mind off everything. When he walks into the bookstore, he looks at the magazines. He finds a _Men's Health_ the guarantees the best sex she'll ever have. Well, he doesn't need that, now does he?

He picks it up anyway with her in mind.

She stirs the sugar into her coffee.

He buys a book that looks interesting.

She sips.

He scans.

They both hear it.

"_Flight eight twenty-two from Seattle to Manhattan is now boarding."_

It repeats but they don't need to hear it twice to know they have to get good seats on the airplane.

He doesn't want to be stuck next to the person popping their gum.

She just wants to relax after a long five days.

He likes the aisle seat.

She likes to get an up close and personal view of the stars.

"_Flight eight twenty-two from Seattle to Manhattan is now boarding."_

Mark rushes to the flight attendant standing at the terminal doors. He praises himself for beating the upcoming crowd of hurried travelers. He happily occupies the first aisle seat he notices. Eventually, the crowd subsides and she's one of the few people left.

So much for that up close and personal view of the stars.

Olivia walks down the aisle and prays for one, just one, open window seat. She doesn't really care who it's next to. She can handle any civilian after what she sees everyday on the job.

So far, nothing.

Still proud of himself, he situates himself in the comfortable seat. He watches the people come and go. A part of him wonders why nobody has taken the seat next to him.

Oh well. Maybe he can have extra room for himself.

He reaches under his seat and sets his carry on upon the vacant seat next to him. He shuffles through it to look for his iPod and his new book.

"Excuse me, is that seat taken?"

He turns to look at a face so familiar, it's still fresh in his memory.

"Oh no, not at all," he says and snatches his bag off of the seat and into his lap.

Olivia smiles and opens the overhead compartment. He steals a glance at her flat stomach when she reaches above to put her things away.

If her personality is as attractive as her body, then this is going to be a good six hours. It's not like he doesn't really care for personality when meeting a very attractive woman. It is, it really is but at first, it's more like how fast he can get her into his bed before the night ends. Since his breakup with Lexie, most of those habits have died down but still remain. On the other hand, this is a long flight and he has six hours to charm her.

In this case, personality does matter.

She falls back into the seat, exhaling deeply and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Long day?" Mark inquires.

"I was supposed to go on the flight straight from California to New York but it was cancelled."

Mark mentally thanks all the Gods in the sky for cancelling the flight. He looks back over to her to see her eyes closed and her chest steadily rising and falling.

Derek warned him to control himself.

But when has he ever listened to Derek?


	2. Hard to Get

**Chapter Two: Hard to Get**

His eyebrows rise a little.

This magazine isn't so bad.

He's never really focused on which of the women he's slept with are moaners, screamers, cursers, or just silent.

He looks over to Olivia.

Which one is she?

She doesn't notice him looking at her. She's working on something, something that looks important.

This is not acceptable.

Mark turns back to his magazine so she doesn't catch him staring.

"Mark," He says without looking back up.

She glances out of the corner of her eye to see if he's talking to her. She looks up at him, "I'm sorry?"

"My name's Mark. I figured since we're going to be on this plane for the next," he stops to look at the watch on his wrist, "Four hours, we might as well know each other's names."

Her lips curve into a tiny smile, "Olivia."

"Well, Olivia, what do you do?"

Also, are you a moaner, a screamer, a curser, or silent during sex?

The question is burning deep inside of him but he wants to make it off this plane with everything intact.

"I'm a detective for The Special Victims Unit in Manhattan."

"You're a cop?" He asks.

Even more of a reason not to fuck things up but the image of this woman with a gun and handcuffs triggers something inside of him that he rarely feels.

There's a silence before Olivia speaks up.

"I'm surprised someone like you needs to refer to a magazine like that. A pretty boy such as yourself," she gestures toward the magazine in his hands.

His mind focuses back to reality and he pushes the dirty thoughts to the back of his mind. He glances back at the text as if he's processing what she says.

"I don't," he closes it, "I just picked it up for the plane ride." He glances at her and sets down the magazine, "Actually, it's pretty ridiculous. I could write better stuff than this," he says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"Really," she chuckles. She lifts a perfectly arches eyebrow and opens her mouth to say something but decides not to.

Mark stops for a moment just to make sure this is real. Is she flirting or just messing with him?

She turns to look out the window. Only seeing the small lights on the wing guide the plane back to New York. She thinks about home, the air, Elliot. A rush of guilt and worry come over her when she visualizes him, waiting at the precinct for her to call or watching the clock, constantly checking the time to see when the right time to pick her up is. He's constantly fighting sleep. Then he pours himself a third cup of coffee, which doesn't help.

Olivia flashes back to reality. She knows he knows better to try and challenge sleep. The risk of sleeping at the wheel is too dangerous. She turns back to Mark.

"What brings you to New York?" She asks.

With the magazine back open, he flips through the last few pages before answering. He wants to tell her he's a first time visitor and is sightseeing then follows his story with a suggestion that she shows him around. But he doesn't want to lie to her. The truth may not be as interesting but it'll score him more points.

"Visiting home. It's been years." Then, the idea hits him, "I'm sure there's a ton of places I'm not familiar with." It's clear he's hinting at the obvious.

It's not lying and it's also what he is aiming for.

Olivia catches the hint, chuckles, and shakes her head, her brown hair swaying gently with her every move, "Google Maps - it's wonderful."

Mark feels a pang inside of him at her words. He could've sworn she was flirting with him earlier, how did this backfire so quickly?

He takes a while to regain his ego and reevaluate his plan. There are two and a half hours left on the plane and he begins to become nervous. Over the course of the flight, Mark realizes that Olivia is that type of challenge he wants and likes. She's not easy but she knows how get a guy's attention.

She has his in the palm of her hand.

They spend the remaining time talking about the usual things, family, friends, and their career. He learns about her mother, her absent father, her half brother, and her close relationship with her partner at work. She keeps the painful history about her mother to herself, only revealing the fact that she passed several years ago. He tells her about his estrangement with his parents and his job as a surgeon. Most girls brighten at the mention of his prosperous career but Olivia remains neutral and simply nods at the remark. He fails to tell her about his fumble with Derek and how he ruined their friendship at one point. It tempts him, though. He wants to impress her with how well he can repair a relationship (even though it wasn't _him _that repaired it) but he doesn't want to turn her off with the huge detail that he slept with his best friend's wife.

Eventually, they run out of things to say to one another. By then, the plane is hovering over the Empire State Building. It doesn't take much longer until it lands in JFK airport and the passengers begin to withdraw from the plane.

She's still not enticed by him; he needs more time.

"How about a drink?" Mark suggests like it's no big deal, like he hasn't been hitting on her this whole plane ride.

"It's almost three in the morning, Mark." She checks the time.

"Don't tell me you've never stayed out past three before," Mark jokes.

She doesn't laugh nor does she respond. Instead, Olivia slides her back into her pocket, "I think we should go home."

His eyebrows rise.

"Separately."

He relaxes. He does have reservations at a hotel around Fifth Avenue but somehow he wants a drink with Olivia more than sleep. Her lips turn upward into a small smile and she grabs a brochure off of a small table and a pen. After scribbling down her number, she hands it to Mark.

"Goodnight," she says with a tired, yet polite smile and makes her way towards the exit and disappears into one of the waiting yellow cabs.

He expected to be exhausted when he arrives at his hotel. He planned on having one drink and flirt with the cute bartender before retiring to his large room with a beautiful view. He envisioned himself go back to that same girl, telling her what a wonderful conversation he had with her the night before and would suggest to take things further. They would go on a small date and he'd bring her back to his room. This process would repeat on occasion with a few different women until it was time to return back to Seattle.

His plan reshaped in a matter of hours.

When he gets to his hotel, he checks in and gets his key - not even looking twice at the blonde concierge giving him bedroom eyes. The bar is empty and the bartender seems surprised at his presence. He orders his drink but not stopping for small talk or harmless flirting. He thinks about the irresistible brunette he met in the busy airport, the one he sat next to on the plane, and the one that rejected him multiple times in one night. He sits on his bed, looking at her number written on the pamphlet – her professional and neat handwriting invites him to call her.

He anticipates the moment when he can.


	3. A little Busy

Mark completely ignores Derek's statement, "Maybe she was just tired, you know? She did say she had to transfer flights." He scurries down the stairs of his hotel and onto the busy New York sidewalk.

"Maybe, but I don't think it's a good idea to pull your usual tricks with her. She's a cop, Mark. A sex cop. She's not going to be easy," Derek tells Mark from the other end of the phone.

"What usual tricks? I have no usual tricks."

Derek scoffs and then there's a silence. It's obvious Mark is thinking about what he could do different.

"Other than this Olivia you met, did you get settled in okay?"

"Yeah, I unpacked a little. Olivia gave me her number." Derek rolls his eyes from the other end of the phone while Mark continues, "I'm going to take her out tonight."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, "Does Olivia know this?"

"Not yet," Mark says confidently.

* * *

><p>"Hey, how was your trip? Anything interesting happen?" Elliot asks when he walks in and sets down a cup of coffee in front of Olivia.<p>

"It wasn't exactly Palm Springs and no, nothing interesting," Olivia replies without looking up, "I was only gone for a few days and 1PP is throwing all this shit at me. I feel like I'm filling out the same things over and over again." She glances over at the coffee, "Thanks," she mumbles.

"Yeah, well, they like getting off on overworking returnees." Elliot says.

Olivia chuckles and then exhales deeply, "I hope they're enjoying themselves because before they know it I'll be back in the field and they will be finding someone else to-" She slows down as she looks up. A tall, handsome, brown haired acquaintance stands in the middle of the precinct.

"What?" Elliot turns around to try and see what Olivia is seeing but he doesn't get the problem. He notices Mark in the middle of the room but only sees him as a man who might need help surrounded by a rapidly growing crowd of civilians.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" He asks.

Mark turns to him, "Yeah, I'm looking for-" He sees Olivia and smiles, "Never mind, I found her."

Elliot turns back to Olivia and raises his eyebrow, "Really? Nothing interesting?" He smirks.

Olivia exhales, stands, and walks over to Mark, "You could've called. Actually, you should've called." She motions for him to follow her somewhere less crowded.

The precinct was becoming extra busy today. They just had a press conference on a missing girl that is now hospitalized and people are rushing in and out trying to claim her. The reward to find her is eight and a half million dollars. People push past one another in a frenzy to claim they saw the girl and hope they get lucky to become a multi-millionaire.

"I was in the neighborhood and I saw the station and then I remembered you and then I decided that I want to take you out tonight. What time are you free?" He smiles a crooked smile. It vanishes when someone pushes past him and bumps his shoulder. Mark scowls and prepares to shout something at the man but stops when Olivia speaks.

"I'm a little busy, Mark. I can't really-." She looks back at the chaos.

"Come on, we'll have so much fun together," he states. His voice is low and seductive. He leaves out the part about him losing sleep because he was too busy thinking about her. Or the fact that he wasn't turned on by any woman that wasn't her and how this isn't normal for him at all.

Mark Sloan does not admit those kinds of things.

He tries to keep eye contact with her. She's too busy looking at the scene behind her to notice the lusty look in his eyes.

"I don't know. I really wish that you called first. I'm not-"

"Liv, we really need you in here," Elliot says from the doorway. His voice sounds rushed.

"Okay, I'll be right there," she replies and turns back to Mark, "I really have to go." She begins to run back to the station when he gently grasps her hand. She turns back to him.

"Olivia," he says softly.

"Olivia!" Elliot calls from the doorway.

"They need me in there. I'm sorry." She pulls her hand away and emerges into the rush of money hungry people.

Mark crosses his arms across his chest and sighs. Another person bumps his shoulder, which is his cue to leave. Mark walks onto the next available elevator and returns to the even busier sidewalk.

* * *

><p>"I met him at the airport and we were on the plane together," Olivia tells Elliot after she throws out the last paper cup from the interrogation room.<p>

It took hours to find the missing girl and even longer to rush the crowd back to their daily lives and an extra hour to clean up.

Elliot picks up the fallen papers off the floor, he turns his head slightly toward her direction and looks out of the corner of his eye, "You must've left quite an impression on him." He straightens and leans against the wall, arms crossed.

She shrugs, and avoids his gaze. She doesn't know what happened at the airport. She knows that she was too tired to even process the simplest of thoughts. She knows she gave him her phone number that he failed to use and showed up at the worst time possible. She knows that maybe, just maybe, he might've made a small impression on her as well.

When she looks back at Elliot, he's still looking at her. There's something in the depth of his eyes that's difficult to read. It's not dark but it doesn't look very positive either. It's thoughtful.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothin'," Elliot replies after a few seconds of silence.

She looks at him with a bit of uncertainty but she nods and says nothing more. The sky continues to darken and most of the people have left. Remaining desk lights and the streetlights from outside illuminate a small portion of the precinct. Elliot collects the things he needs to take home and carefully puts what he doesn't need away in a desk drawer. Olivia turns off her computer and desk lamp. Together, they walk towards the elevator.

He sits against the windowsill, his head against the wall and his eyes forward at the opposing wall. He turns when he hears the faint chatter from the detectives and straightens his posture when Olivia and Elliot get closer.

Olivia looks ahead and her eyes land on Mark. In a quick instant, her expression turns into one of regret, sorrow, and a little bit of surprise.

"You waited," she says in a deep exhale.

"No, I didn't wait." Mark stands, "I left for a few hours and came back." His attention briefly turns to Elliot, "This your boyfriend?"

He only asks to make conversation. Mark doesn't give a damn if Elliot is still Olivia's boyfriend – he'd still screw her if given the chance.

"No," Olivia says quickly.

"I'm married," Elliot chimes in with a sour smile.

"Never stopped me," Mark utters.

Elliot's smile disappears and turns into a small frown.

"This is my partner, Elliot Stabler. Elliot this is my friend, Mark Sloan."

"And if you let me take you out for a drink, we can change the 'friend' part," Mark tells Olivia with a wink.

With full knowledge that Mark directed the suggestion to Olivia, Elliot says, "It's been a very long day and I'm a little busy tonight. Sorry."

Mark's flirty demeanor fades when only his eyes move to Elliot, "Shame," he says without concern. His eyes move back to Olivia, "That just leaves you."

"Like I said, it's been a _very _long day. Everybody's probably tired. You should respect that," Elliot says tensely.

"El," Olivia says calmly. She turns to Mark and sighs, "It has been a long day. I'm sorry but not tonight."

Mark looks from Olivia to Elliot and then back to Olivia, "Okay," he says with indifference in his voice, "Night." He turns on his heel and takes the first available elevator.

He watches as the numbers on the elevator decrease and his lips pull into a large smile.

_I have a thing for her,_ he mentally tells himself and he chuckles to himself the rest of the way down.


	4. Behind Closed Doors

**Chapter Four: Behind Closed Doors**

The hard rain drums against the windows in a mesmerizing rhythm that is moderately relaxing and solemn. As a result of the rain and the weekday evening, the bar itself is, for the most part, desolate and quiet except for the occasional chink from the glassware and the low music playing throughout the room. Olivia sits at the counter with the neck of her beer bottle between her finger and thumb. She dangles it a little while she stares down at the countertop. She usually doesn't go to the pub solely just to think about her life; normally it would be to wind down after work but not tonight. Tonight it's to stall as long as possible before going home because she doesn't want to go home to an empty house again. Or forget about all the failed relationships she had high hopes for.

Could she even call those men her lovers?

It's just one of those nights.

"Want another one, Olivia?" Logan, the bartender, asks.

"Sure," Olivia replies softly.

He shakes the excess rain off his umbrella when he is safely under the bar awning. He pushes past the door and takes the first vacant stool he sees.

"I'll have what she's having."

Olivia brings her eyes up to Mark sitting next to her. She smiles weakly and sips from her new drink.

"Out of all the bars in New York…" she begins and then chuckles to herself.

"When I got to my hotel last night, I asked someone in the elevator what were some good bars around here. They suggested this place. I didn't expect you to be here."

"Ah," Olivia says, unconvinced.

Mark shrugs, "Where's your partner?"

She doesn't feel like talking to him but it's somehow better than musing on the troubles in her life, starting with her childhood.

"He went home. It's his wife's birthday," she responds.

"And you're left without a date tonight," Mark chuckles while he sips his drink.

"We're not dating." She makes sure the clarity and irritability is clear in her voice.

"I never said you two were dating. I just noticed you're alone."

Damn him and his good logic.

Olivia looks downward at her bottle.

"So am I. Why don't we fix that?" He continues.

"I don't think so."

Mark consumes the last of his drink and orders another, "You give me your number yet you push me away every time I ask you out. Why?"

"I was tired. I shouldn't have given it to you," she mutters.

He laughs, "Nobody just gives out their number willingly due to fatigue unless they're asked a million times. I didn't ask you one damn time." He sips, "What? Did you think I wasn't going to call you?"

She doesn't respond.

Yes, she was tired but alert enough to know that she gave her number to an unselfish man that helped her find her phone. A warmhearted man that was kind enough to give her the last window seat on the plane. A fun man who kept her laughing and entertained the whole six hours. A sexy man who always gets her a little excited when he walks in the room.

A man she wanted to see again.

So, she gave him her number.

Only to realize that he might be too good for her if and when they go on a first date.

Is this their first date?

Hardly.

So, with fear holding her back, she rejects him. She shoots him down before she gets exposed to the chance of becoming hurt.

"The whole reason why I didn't call you was because I lost the thing you wrote your number on." He avoids eye contact because he doesn't want to see her reaction.

She smiles to herself and even laughs a little.

He looks at her when he hears the tiny giggle, "What?"

"Or you were just too afraid to call."

He doesn't protest - he just looks at her.

She laughs again and looks down at her near empty beer.

"You're a cop. I think most men would be," he jokes, "Only a real man can handle handcuffs."

"Are you saying you're not a real man?" Olivia teases.

"Hell no and I'll be more than happy to prove that to you."

Another small chuckle passes her lips. For a second, she actually considers it.

He shrugs and stares into his bottle, "Maybe you're just scared. You don't know what a real man feels like and you're afraid to find out."

She watches him while she quickly searches for something to say in return. Something witty. Something that'll prove his theory is complete shit and she can defend herself with one stable relationship that she's had. But she can't. She's too closed minded to even consider that there's someone out there willing to change that.

Someone right next to her.

He takes notice of her silence and eyes her drink, "Let me buy you another one."

"No thanks. I-I'm good."

"Look, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, really. I should go anyway." She stands up and throws a few bills on the counter, "Good night, Mark." She smiles a little and begins walking out.

"Olivia," Mark sighs and pays for his drinks. He hops off the seat, grabs his umbrella, and rushes after her.

The rain seems to have gotten heavier when he leaves the bar. The sidewalk is nearly empty but that doesn't make finding Olivia any easier. He looks to his left and then to his right and when he looks across the street, he sees her calling an upcoming cab. He briskly catches up to her and adjusts his umbrella over her while she slides in. Then, he slides in after her into the cab.

"Two addresses. I'm paying for both," he tells the cab driver.

She wants to be mad at him but she can't. She could've pushed him out of the cab when she had the chance but when he got into the car, Olivia merely slid to the other end to make room. Her blood doesn't boil with irritation and anger. Her jaw doesn't clench when she feels his arm press against hers while he situates himself and she can't help but smile when he tells the cabbie that he's also paying for her. She hides her smile by looking out the window. After the vehicle begins to move, she feels him turn towards her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said."

She has to know this is a big deal because he rarely apologizes for anything.

He looks at her for a response - an insult, a demand, anything. Nothing comes out for those few seconds of silence.

Here is a man sitting next to her, apologizing to her. An unselfish, warmhearted, fun, and sexy man that makes her heart race every time he lowers his voice in that seductive, husky, tone. And here she is – a reluctant woman who is holding her attraction from the man that is giving his all for her. And for what? For a broken heart that's not even guaranteed.

Someone needs to change and it's not Mark.

"No you're right, maybe I don't know what it feels like. Which is why…" She bites her lower lip and thinks for a moment, "I don't need another drink. I need to know what it's like." Her voice is suggestive and he knows what she means.

His eyebrows rise in astonishment.

"Olivia, are you-"

Her lips are sweet and he's hooked as soon as they meet his. He shifts toward her, allowing her hand to rest on his cheek. She doesn't waste any time with this kiss – she opens her mouth and invites his tongue to come and play. He doesn't resist – his hand is positioned on the small of her back, just below the fabric of her shirt. Heat rushes through his body while he runs his hand up her bare back, the fabric of her bra brushing at his fingertips.

Then he realizes that they're heading in the direction of her apartment. She might change her mind. Trying to keep calm, Mark taps on the Plexiglas divider and signals the driver that they are only going to his destination.

The cab drops them off at the corner of his hotel. Mark throws a twenty to the driver and tells him to keep the change. It was probably more than twenty dollars but the driver takes off anyway. He pecks her cheek before taking her hand and leading her toward the building. He feels a resistance and then a strong pull, by then his lips are back on hers. He doesn't care that they're being watched by the surrounding people, this woman is beautiful, exotic, and elusive – if he worries about everything and everybody else then she might slip away.

Finally, they make it to the elevator. Her back slams against the wall and, through half opened eyes, she watches the doors close behind Mark. He lifts up her shirt over her head and grips it tightly in his hand. They don't care about the security camera openly staring at them in the corner; they only hope that they're putting on a nice show for whoever is on the other side. The sounds of their heavy breathing and the occasional ding when they pass each floor fill the car. He kisses and nibbles on her neck while palming her breast, teasing her nipple from outside of her bra.

The doors open again and he pulls her out of the elevator, not even bothering to check if anybody else was in the hallway. Luckily for them, they're completely alone. The ache in his fully erect member is growing stronger and stronger. When they enter his room, they don't rush to the bed, instead, they claim the couch. Olivia tosses her bra aside and wraps her arms around Mark's neck while he steadies himself over her. After disrobing his shirt and his belt, he kisses the top of her breast, kissing it harder when she feels her fingers dig into his back and her legs wrap around his waist.

His hand trails down her flat stomach and he teasingly pulls at the lining of her jeans. She watches him with impatient, hungry, eyes. She sucks in her lower lip when she feels him playing with the button and then the zipper. Soon enough, her fly's undone, splayed apart.

"What are you waiting for?" She whispers.

Sex. This woman is pure sex.

A small smirk crosses his face. Then, his smirk grows into a full grin when his first two fingers penetrate her. Her back arches in a quick instant.

"Holy shit, Mark!" She squeals.

He kisses and sucks at the base of her neck while he thrusts his fingers in and out at a steady pace. Her natural aroma infiltrates his nose – addicting and sexy yet calming and comforting. A total turn on. Involuntary moans flutter up Olivia's throat like a caged animal, ready to be released. Deep, throaty, groans escape Mark and fill her ear. They only make her closer to climaxing.

A high pitched ringing interrupts their intimacy.

"Shit, no, no, no," Olivia whispers through her teeth.

She tries to ignore it and for a while, she's successful but the phone keeps begging for her attention. She lifts up her lower half of her body and reaches in her back pocket. Much to her dismay, it's a call she has to take.

"Mark," she exhales, "Mark I have to-" Her words are cut of with a moan.

Her phone doesn't stop ringing in her hand and Mark doesn't stop pleasing her.

"Benson," She pants, "Yeah Elliot?" She closes her eyes and releases a shaky breath, "I'm fine, honestly." She bites her lower lip, hard, holding back another moan while she listens to him speak. "Okay, tell him I'll be right there."

"You have to go?" Mark growls seductively in her ear, faking disappointment.

She tries to gain control, "Y-Yes."

"But you don't want to go?"

"…It's not that, I just-"

He goes harder, faster, and uses his thumb to rub vigorously on her clit.

Her toes curl and her back arches.

"I understand, Olivia. Just stay a few more minutes. That's all I need."

Her eyes flutter to a close and she wets her top lip with her tongue while he whispers explicit nothings in her ear. With the intensity is so strong she pays very little attention to what he's saying. The magnitude of pleasure conquering her body brings her to a powerful climax. She moans and screams at the top of her lungs until she collapses on the couch, her heart pounding, and her breathing harsh.

"Oh fuck," She pants, a wave of fatigue washes over her body. She wants to go again. She wants to go further but as she lies there, her ringing phone reminds her that nothing more will happen that night. She looks back at Mark, he slowly grins.

"Go," he urges and climbs off of her.

She smiles and answers her phone, "I'm on my way," she says as she gets dressed. She does a half-assed job of putting her bra back on and she quickly slips on her shirt. She kisses Mark quickly on his lips and winks at him before closing the door behind her. She listens to Elliot's accusation while waiting for the elevator.

"No, I'm not drunk."

Because everybody says no when asked if they're drunk. Even though she is, she's lucid enough to be accountable for her actions.

Every single one of them.


	5. Stuck on You

**Chapter Five: Stuck on You**

Olivia walks down the empty street, paying very little attention to what's in front of her and more attention to what just happened in Mark's hotel room. An arousing tingle surges in her body every time she thinks about him, his skill, his ability to bring her to one of the best orgasms she's ever had, and the way he murmurs her name in her ear while she takes in the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

And this was only from a short while; she can only imagine what all night with him is like.

The flashing blue and red lights in the distance break her drunk and erotic thoughts. She's close to the crime scene. The sight in front of her is a bit blurry but she can still work. She can still solve a case.

She knows she can.

"Olivia!"

She turns to the voice in the distance and sees Elliot approaching her.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home," she asks.

Her speech is slightly slurred which makes Elliot frown a little bit. They begin walking in the direction of the crime scene and his car.

"I got Fin and Munch to work the case instead. I'm taking you home."

Olivia scoffs and shifts her weight to one leg, "I can't believe you. I'm fine."

Elliot sighs, no matter how many times he tells her that he think she's drunk, she's going to deny it.

"Yeah, well, Fin's already there and John is on his way so that gives you the night off." There's a small silence and Elliot gestures to the passenger side of his car.

Olivia sighs and slides into the seat. She puts her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes, listening to Elliot get into the driver's side and turn on the car.

"Why aren't you at home? It's Kathy's birthday."

"It was."

Olivia furrows her eyebrows and looks at the time. It's well past two.

"I called you after they went to bed."

Bed. That sounds wonderful to Olivia right about now. Bed with Mark – that sounds even better. She releases a deep breath and closes her eyes.

Elliot looks over at her and mentally smiles to himself for catching her before Cragen saw her exhausted and drunk. He can't help but wonder where she was all night. He left the station before she did, went home to celebrate Kathy's birthday, and then got a call from Cragen about how he couldn't reach Olivia. It's obvious she went out for a drink but why did she sound out of breath and occupied when he called?

He pulls to a stop in front of her apartment. By then, Olivia is fast asleep. Gently, he wakes her and walks her up to her apartment.

"Are you good for the night?" Elliot asks.

"Yeah," Olivia replies tiredly.

He says goodnight and returns home. Olivia, too fatigued to even shower and fully change, removes her jeans and jacket and climbs into bed. In an instant, she's back asleep.

* * *

><p>"You slept with her?" An unsurprised Derek asks Mark over the phone.<p>

"I didn't sleep with her, Derek," Mark replies for the second time. No matter how much Derek criticizes at him, it won't kill the wonderful mood he woke up with. He pours coffee into a mug and takes a seat on the couch - the couch that Olivia was just laying on a few hours ago.

"Then what does 'We had a few drinks and went back to the hotel' mean?"

"Exactly that. I didn't fuck her."

"Okay," Derek says caustically

"Don't you have patients or something to take care of?"

As if on cue, Mark hears the tiny beeps coming from Derek's pager on the other line.

"Now that you mention it, I do."

The two say a quick goodbye and hang up.

Mark sits back against the couch and looks around with a smug smile on his face. He looks over at the end table next to him and notices a stack of brochures. One stands out to him. He grabs it and examines it- his smug smile grows into one of excitement.

* * *

><p>The sun greets her with a burst of glittering rays and instantly she closes her eyes again. It's too bright and compliments the strong pulse in her head. Olivia elicits an irritated groan and rolls over so her face is buried into the pillow and all she can see is black. It's not until she feels the sun's warmth that she realizes she has to get up sooner or later. Sooner will get her to work on time.<p>

Slowly, Olivia forces herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She disrobes her shirt and notices it.

That.

That ugly, dark, red thing.

Her hickey.

It's on the top of her breast, barely covered by her bra. She knows how she got it but she thought it was just a drunken dream. She'd be lying if she said it doesn't thrill her a little bit and that she's not grateful it's in a spot that'll be completely concealed. Quickly, she checks her neck and other obvious places for those tacky marks and she emits an appreciative sigh that Mark was kind enough not to embarrass her. Reminiscences of last night invade Olivia's mind while she steps into the warm shower. An involuntary smile crosses her face and a sensation of arousal rushes through her body. Her fingers begin to roam her body, hoping to find some of that rush of euphoria leftover from the previous evening.

She catches herself.

She mentally scolds herself for letting herself enjoy that night, enjoy everything he did and said to her, and not minding the hangover she's enduring right now because the time with him was amazing.

Utterly, perfectly, entirely, amazing.

Could she be saying that because she was drunk and he made fingering feel like a night of mind-blowing sex?

Probably. But she can't help but wonder what it's like when she's sober. Not just him fingering her but a night of actual mind-blowing sex.

Her heart begins to speed up at the thought.

Olivia pushes the thoughts to the back of her mind and quickly shuts off the water. She takes a deep breath and tries to think of other things while she gets ready for work.

* * *

><p>"Sleep well?" Elliot asks when Olivia sits down.<p>

Olivia sneers at his comment, "Swimmingly." She grabs a few things from the desk drawer and spreads them out.

For the next half an hour, everything is quiet. Elliot occasionally glances up at Olivia. The question concerning where she was the previous night still burns in his mind. He doesn't want to ask because then he'll sound nosy and protective. Then she'll get irritated and stressed. She's already hungover and tired; the combination of all four can be dangerous. He tries to dismiss the concern and return to his work.

Everything is quiet.

"Is there an Olivia Benson here?" The deliveryman calls out when he steps in the precinct.

Olivia looks up to see the uniformed man holding a small bouquet of roses. She furrows her eyebrows with confusion and makes her way over to him. Elliot watches with the same confused look on his face. He turns to Olivia's unattended desk when another noise catches his attention.

A loud vibration shifts Olivia's phone to the edge of the table - then another and then another. Her phone falls to the floor with a lit up screen facing the ceiling. Elliot goes over to it to pick it up. He tries not to read the message. He does everything he can to just calmly put it back on her desk but the screen is just so tempting. One quick glance, one quick glance is all he takes.

One quick glance is all he needs.

_Unknown_

_I can still taste you. I want to hear you whisper my name again. _

_Come over, Olivia, so we can finish what we started. _


	6. Composure

**Thanks to everyone who helped me with this chapter! You know who you are and you are wonderful! Thank you so so much! (:**

**Chapter Six: Composure**

The coffee shop is nearly empty when she steps in. The barista at the front of the cafe gives her a mere once over and returns to cleaning out the off white porcelain coffee mug. The fireplace in the corner of the shop gives her a sense of warmth and comfort while she escapes the rainy streets. Mark is nowhere to be found so Olivia finds a vacant table in the back of the shop. After she disrobes her coat and hangs it off the back of her chair, the same barista approaches her table, introduces herself as Candice and asks Olivia if she wants anything. With a quick glance at the menu lying on the table, Olivia orders the first recognizable tea she finds on the list. She has more things on her mind than what to drink. Different types of dialogue play over and over in her head. She thinks about the things she could say and the points she wants to get across. The goal here is to make Mark understand that nothing will work between them. Exhaling, Olivia tells herself this will be quick. She'll say what she needs to say and then leave.

Her gaze wanders out the window. Tiny raindrops run down the window and she watches a woman fix her clothes while, at the same time, holding her umbrella securely over her head. Olivia glances around to see if Mark is coming but she doesn't see him which strikes something inside of her that makes her a little nervous. She tells herself not to be so jumpy because this is no big deal. She's confronted many men before, telling them that a relationship won't work between them. This is nothing new for her at all.

A few more minutes of a mental pep talk and Olivia hears the door open. She looks over at the entrance and sees Mark closing his umbrella. He stops and his blue eyes scan the shop. For a quick second, she hopes he doesn't see her. One, because she wasn't done planning out everything she wanted to tell him and two because she can get a little more time taking in his strong and chiseled physique as if it's the world's finest statue. Her gaze drops to his hands. The same hands that sent surges through her body. She remembers his touch - soft and gentle yet strong and seductive. Their eyes meet and she instantly feels the confidence drain out of her and she swallows as he approaches. His daring, blue eyes never leave her while he keeps a pearly white smirk on his face, even when he sits down across from her.

"Hey," he says calmly, ignoring the menu that's placed in front of her, "I honestly didn't think that you'd call back."

"I didn't call you for a date," Olivia forces out and notices that her tea has been waiting for her, "Mark, this can't happen. The roses and the text messages – it just can't happen."

She expects him to react negatively. To probably try and convince her that she's wrong and even argue against what she just said. But instead, he crosses his arms on the table and looks at her. His lips curl into a coy smile and his eyes match the expression.

"Last night, you-"

"Last night didn't mean anything, Mark," Olivia interrupts, the frustration and stress coating every word.

His face doesn't change. He seems comfortable when Olivia is becoming a frustrated mess. He leans back against his chair, arms crossed, and sarcastically says, "Ouch."

She exhales deeply and runs her fingers through her hair, "I-I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we were both drunk and-"

"I wasn't that drunk," Mark states matter-of-factly.

Olivia sighs, averts her gaze, and mutters, "Me either."

He leans forward and rests his arms back on the table, "I was aware of everything I was doing to you last night, Olivia. Even if it wasn't that much."

She meets his gaze. He's close; not close enough to see the faint rose blush on her cheeks but close enough for her to take in the spicy scent of his fragrance. Olivia wraps her hands around the now, lukewarm, cup of tea and tries her hardest to hold her gaze, to hold the last bit of superiority she thinks she has.

The rain makes tiny patters against the glass and the fire crackles in the corner.

"There's nothing going on between us," Olivia whispers.

"Why not?" Mark inquires. They both look down at Mark's hand clasping around hers.

She's unsure if she should let him take her hand like that or take it away instantly. It's thrilling yet not what she wants at all. Everything she rehearsed, everything she told herself not to let happen is happening right at this moment. She doesn't want to focus on the heat that warms her hand in an instant she doesn't want to pay attention to the adrenaline rush or the racing of her heart. A certain type of pressure builds up inside of her, a type that she does and does not want. She begins to feel the need to release somewhere, somehow. And there he is, staring deep into her eyes, making it clear that he's here for that type of release. His grip tightened and he brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing her skin gently and longer than usual.

"Why not?" He repeats, his voice soft and throaty.

Olivia doesn't respond, her mouth is open but she can't seem to get any words out.

She swallows down the sea of emotions that she knows are about to come pouring out. She has to think straight, but that damn bastard. Why was he so calm about this? So relaxed?

She swallows once more, takes a deep breath and pulls her hand away, looking at him with a stern face. "Mark, we can't. I can't. This is all just a mistake. The airport, the bar, everything. It shouldn't have happened. We both know that."

Mark simply smirks at her, as if she had attempted to tell a joke and messed up the punchline, "If it was a mistake," Mark begins, "Then why does this feel so right?"

Slowly, he pushes himself up a little and leans across the table. She knows what is about to happen but she doesn't move; she lets it happen. He reaches for her, his hand brushing the strand of hair off her cheek and slides it lightly past her ear. His fingers support the back of her head, securely embedded in her hair as he leans in and forcefully yet seductively places his lips to hers. She quickly inhales, her heart filling with desire. As much as she hates herself for it, she leans into it, loving the feeling of him so close. She shuts her eyes and is soon intoxicated by only him, before she realizes this can not happen. She pulls herself away and slides her chair back, causing a loud screeching noise. Everyone in the cafe turns and stares but Olivia doesn't care. She has to go.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I can't." She dashes outside into the rain and hurries down the street out of the sight of the building.


End file.
